The Doctor Is In
by mahlia
Summary: Red Hood meets his match when he tries to help stop the chaos that erupted at Arkham, courtesy of Joker. He finds out what the phrase "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" really means, and what happens when Harley Quinn gets bored. Definitely AU.


This is the result of a prompt **Cloaks and Daggers** gave to me via tumblr. The prompt itself was, "He/she's not mad, he/she's just crazy."

Somehow, I came up with a scene between Red Hood/Jason Todd and Harley Quinn. I have no idea where it came from. But it's definitely AU, and is somewhat inspired by the events in the Batman Arkham Asylum video game.

It's rated T for your reading pleasure.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DC comics and am making no profit from this whatsoever. And it's not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

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><p>How she'd managed to get the drop on him he had no idea, but judging by the soreness he was now beginning to notice, she'd stuck him with a needle where his right shoulder met his neck. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his blurry vision as a massive headache began to build as a result of the strange cocktail.<p>

He'd underestimated her prior knowledge of sedatives, anti-psychotics and stimulants, carelessly forgetting she'd been a psychiatrist once.

And now he'd paid the price for it. _Last time I try to give Batman a hand_, he mused.

Jason was strapped to a metal table, his jacket and helmet tossed on the couch to his left. Clear plastic zip ties bit into his wrists and ankles, in addition to the heavy leather straps across his shoulders, chest and upper thighs. A few droplets of blood had fallen from the bindings at his wrists, mixing with the dirt and grime on the floor. As he tried moving his hands and feet he noticed a diploma in a cracked frame on the south wall, the glass broken and covered with years of dust.

_The American Board of Psychiatry certifies that Dr. __Harleen Frances Quinzel__ has satisfied the requirements of the Board and hereby maintained certification as a Diplomate in the specialty of Psychiatry._

_Nice._ With a grim smile he figured out where he was. He was strapped down and locked in her former office at Arkham. Crazy-Lady Central.

Harley busied herself at the desk to his right, humming to herself as she reorganized her tools. She turned around, holding a bone saw in one hand and a pair of needle nose pliers in the other.

"I hope you don't mind I took off that silly helmet," she cooed. "But it's more fun to see your face when I start doin' what I'm about to do."

"And what is that, pray tell? All hell's still breaking loose out there, but Batman will catch your freak of a boyfriend eventually."

He didn't miss the way she bristled at the mention of Joker and she turned back to the table, putting back the bone saw and pliers, picking up a utility knife.

"Mista Jay can handle him. There's no way I'm gettin' in the middle of that," she said, trailing her grimy fingers along his cheek. "As soon as he gets what he wants outta Bats? He can go screw himself. I'm just using you as a distraction. I'm bored." She cut through the zip tie on his right hand, freeing his wrist.

"A distraction?" He tried not to flinch when she touched him again, slightly unnerved by the gleam in her eye.

"Yeah, a distraction." She slowly ran the blade up his forearm, a minute trail of blood following. Jason barely noticed, so she continued. "Doesn't matter what happens to you. You weren't part of the plan. You weren't on the guest list." She pushed down harder on the blade, digging deep into his bicep, smiling when he winced and grunted in pain.

"Yeah, well, I love crashing parties," he panted, maintaining his smirk. Blood began to pool beneath his arm, soaking into his shirt sleeve.

"You'll regret crashin' this one, puddin'." She gave him a wink before she stuck the blade into his shoulder.

He looked up at her, watching as she tilted her head and a lopsided grin spread across her face. Her makeup began to crack and flake off.

"I already regret it, sweetheart. But just for argument's sake, I'm gonna ask why."

She put the now-bloody utility knife back on the desk and held up the pair of pliers again.

"While Mista Jay's out there, playin' with the Batman? I get to play with _you_. You're a freebie. You're not on the list. Doesn't matter what happens to you. You aren't part of the plan."

A familiar sense of panic set in as Jason realized where she was going with this.

"Plan? Last time I checked, Harley, Joker left you by the wayside. You're on your own." _And so am I, apparently._

She shrugged. "And your point is?" She raised an eyebrow, shaking a red-streaked pigtail behind her shoulder.

"You aren't pissed at him? For kicking your crazy ass to the curb?" His attempt at distraction was failing; she wasn't taking the bait and leaned a hip on the table, holding up the pliers to inspect them.

"Nah. He's done it before, he'll do it again." She looked down at him, picked up his hand and straightened his middle finger with a firm tug. The joint popped loudly. "But I'm always there to help pick up the pieces. He needs me."

"He doesn't need you, lady." He struggled to pull his hand away from her, but the ties at his wrist stopped him from getting too far. "Someone will come down here eventually." He started tugging at his bindings on his feet now, not bothering with trying to hide the fear, but his body was sluggish in its response, still doped up on whatever she'd given him. She smiled as she watched him struggle, reaching down to squeeze the inside of his upper thigh. He _definitely_ flinched that time.

"Oh, no. We're alllll alone, Red. And Bats? He won't miss you. He thinks you're already dead." She giggled as she continued, caressing the back of his hand with the handle of the pliers. "Well, dead again, anyway." She mashed the pliers across his knuckles, breaking several in the process. He grit his teeth and inhaled sharply at the pain, glancing at her. She was grinning again, a mad spark in her eyes as she picked up his hand.

The last thought Jason had before Harley began pulling out his fingernails was short.

_She's not mad. She's just fucking __**crazy**__._

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><p><em>And voila! A drabble by mahlia.<em>


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